


The world could change its heart

by allollipoppins



Series: Detroit : Beyond Human [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allollipoppins/pseuds/allollipoppins
Summary: Connor loves her, scars and all. If Kara can accept his past, then it is the least he can do for her.





	The world could change its heart

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s just pretend for a moment that Cyberlife isn’t as lenient concerning androids’ repair as the game would have you think.  
> I’ve got some Connora prompts I’d like to write soon but feel free to send me prompts on my tumblr @allollipoppins! The same goes for Connor/Kara/Markus, though my reference is the blog polyshipprompts.  
> A/N: I am currently working on a Connara soulmate AU, and I’m wondering if I should keep them all as androids, what do you think? I’m toying with the idea of human Kara and Connor, or only human Kara with Alice and Connor as androids. I’d love to hear your ideas in the comments or on tumblr/twitter :)
> 
> tw: talk of abuse and PTSD
> 
> Title taken from "Scars to your beautiful". Unbeta'ed, as per usual, and written by a non native English speaker. Feel free to send tomatoes in the comments if you spot typos.  
> Disclaimer: I don't know Connor and Kara or any other part of Detroit: Become Human.

The first thing they do after moving in an apartment at the border is buy Alice some new clothes. As months go by her t-shirts, coats, jeans and leggings she owned are packed in cardboard boxes and kept at the back of her closet. In prevision for the summer Kara and Connor get her some new things: tank tops, sleeveless shirts, shorts and sandals.

The brunt of their money goes to Alice, who will be starting school a few weeks from now, and who will undoubtedly be sharing her classes with more human children than android ones. While most of the android children had been taken in under the wing of some older androids, taking it upon themselves to create sorts of “android daycares”, they couldn’t keep Alice isolated forever. If they wanted a normal life, a free life, they had to adapt to the new world, settle in. Clothes were, like other means, a way of passing.

Connor himself had traded his semiformal jacket for other ones, keeping the shirts of his uniform until Hank had gotten tired of seeing him come to the office in the same outfit every day and given him some of his own shirts to wear. They mostly consisted of his older lieutenant shirts and pants, most of which he hadn’t been able to wear past a certain age but had never gotten to giving away, and some more informal wear. Among some of the t-shirts were, Connor had noted amusedly, Knights of the Black Death band t-shirts and a couple of Jimi Hendrix tokens. Black for the most part, just as his new uniform was. And while he had no complaint about wearing them in summer, or in any other season for that matter, Hank had a lot to say about the dress code when he was nearly roasting under the shade.

“Don’t you ever wear other clothes? Looking at you makes me sweat,” Hank grumbled as he turned on the air conditioning in their patrol car.

Connor eyed him from his seat, confused. “I am wearing the same clothes as you, Hank. I don’t see how that is a bother.”

“Of course you don’t,” Hank said, though his words lacked bite.

After Detroit, the lieutenant had undergone changes that Connor still found hard to believe, though they were good causes for teasing. Hank had made some effort in changing his lifestyle, going as far as to eat slightly healthier meals, reducing his alcohol consumption and exercising. Recently he had foregone civilian clothing entirely and started wearing his old uniform again. It suited him, but Hank had remarked that it was a little unpleasant at times. The shirt and pants were a little scratchy from years of remaining at the back of a closet, and tight given how Hank hadn’t lost all of the extra weight either. Other than those slightly subtle changes, he was still the Hank had grown to love, foul as his mood could be at times.

“But surely that heat can’t be good for you, right? System overheating and such?”

Connor shook his head. “Most androids are designed to be unaffected by temperature changes, even the harshest or most sudden ones. Some of us possess sensors, which can be useful in the event of a fire outbreak for example, but as it is they don’t often come in handy.”

Hank hummed, though Connor supposed most of his words must have gone unheard through his concentration to drive. Hank tended to shut out what he deemed unnecessary to listen to when he was focused. Or fighting the heat, as he was now.

“I see, he said after a moment when they stopped at a red light. “I suppose Kara doesn’t see any inconvenience to it then?”

_Kara?_

They don’t get much for themselves, Connor realizes. Mostly they keep to the bare necessities, which aren’t a lot to start with since neither of them needs to eat, drink or sleep. Androids, deviants moreso, don’t need to cover up. But they still did it, both out of habit and for safety reasons. Canada’s android legislation was only beginning to form, but the events that had occurred in Detroit were enough to stigmatize public opinion, in spite of how favourable it had been for them.

But Kara?

He hesitates, before answering. “She hasn’t said anything about it.”

Hank must see something in his face, read what he himself cannot put a word on, because he takes his eyes off the road to stare at him for a long, long time before he sighs.

“Personal issues?” Hank tries.

Connor nods with reluctance. “Personal issues.”

 

* * *

 

The truth is, he knows why Kara doesn’t ask for anything. Even when winter came to a close and the warmer days seeped in, Kara still wore long sleeves and turtle necks under old trench coats. They had shared clothes for a while after arriving at the border, without really thinking about it. Sometimes Connor would find that he had taken Kara’s beanie while going on patrol, and other time when he would watch over his girls curled up together in bed he would notice that Kara had wrapped herself in the leather coat he had worn while undercover in Jericho.

Connor pictures her face, the first – second – time he met her in the church the android refugees had been sheltered in prior to the march on the recycling camps. In that instant, seeing her with Alice in her arms, his mind had wandered to a foreign image. For some reason he had thought of dolls. Plastic, rubber dolls with ball-jointed limbs, the kind parents bought their daughters – and sometimes sons – for Christmas and birthdays. Dolls that couldn’t be stretched very far, whose arms and legs couldn’t be put back in place once they were pulled out.

Kara is no toy, and she is certainly not fragile. The female android had gone through so much before and after meeting him for the first time, had gone through hell and back all to save their precious little girl. No one had known injustice the way Kara had. And yet she kept going. She still smiled at him whenever he came home every evening, whenever she saw him scooping Alice up in his arms and playing with her, a tug of her lips ever so soft and sweet, much more than the thanks she had given him after he had apologized for trying to stop them.

Connor knows most the details of her past life only from police records, and even then most of them are wrong. According to the official statement her owner, Todd Williams, had been assaulted by the android and Kara had taken off with his daughter in tow. Police forces didn’t care that he had been high on red ice prior to the supposed attack, and didn’t show physical signs of a struggle.

But even if the circumstances had been adverse, even if he had been aware of her true situation just as he had been of Carlos Ortiz’s android’s, Connor knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. Hank would have dismissed the case had they escaped all the same, and he would have stood his ground It is one of the regrets he had sworn to overcome after becoming deviant, and meeting her again.

Even though Kara doesn’t remember it, she _knows_. The experience has left its mark on her in its own way, with Alice’s own memories of the incident lingering in the background. Kara tends to jump slightly when there is a lot of noise around, especially if someone starts raising their voice or yelling. She doesn’t like it either when someone grips her tightly, pulling her arm forcefully. Hank had done it once without meaning to, and she had pushed him away in self-defence, shocking both herself and the men in the room. Hank had apologized since then, and made sure not to raise his voice around her, even when he was more irritable than usual. Connor was grateful for it; the lieutenant had grown fond of Alice and Kara, and was extremely protective of them.

Meeting with the Android Liberation Movement is always tense because everyone is constantly talking, reviewing new strategies and plans, Markus fronting them and declaring their next move to their people. While his words and his voice are made to be reassuring and hopeful, Kara listens through with her shoulders taunt and the hand that wasn’t holding Alice’s clenched into a fist. After noticing it following a particularly rough meeting, Connor had made a point of taking her free hand, squeezing it softly. She had squeezed back, clutching his hand during the entirety of Markus’ speech, not letting go until they were back home. Kara grows a little stronger every day, but the anxiety remains a constant.

Connor doesn’t dare to ask about the scars. He knows that they are there, and yet he can’t bring himself to ask. It is too much, too private, still too fresh for him to bring up. But the questions remain. Had she felt pain when it happened. Why would Todd dismember her, if she had always followed his orders? Androids had been caught on the cusp of deviancy before and dealt with, sent to recycling camps and back on the production chain and yet Todd had never sent her away; maybe it was about the money, maybe there had been enough love left in this wretched man to keep this one memory of a beloved one intact for his daughter. It was hard to tell.

He feels rage at the thought of this man touching her or laying hands on Alice. Granting that Todd is on the other side of the border, most certainly holed up in his house, probably dead after everything that happened, Connor resents him all the same. Of course it wouldn’t have been the same if Todd hadn’t forced his girls out; Connor might even never have met his precious Alice and Kara, but it shouldn’t have happened all the same. It made him powerless, to think that he could not protect them for all of his advanced abilities.

The only time he had looked at her scars had been a night they had both tucked Alice in, as he had stood behind her, watching over her shoulder as the little girl dozed off. One of her sleeves had slipped off a little on her collarbone, in a manner that was not overly showing, but revealed the junction linking bust to shoulder. Her scars reminded him of stitches, bringing to mind the memory of a cult horror classic which had been saved for reference in his database. General knowledge he had discarded like many other factual informations, never brought up because he could find no use to it in his daily life. Where imaginary fibre stitches had once been, there were only faint lines marring the junction between her limbs and her body, a few shades darker than her natural complexion. The only scratch she has, a patch of skin torn by wire when she had crawled under a fence, had almost disappeared.

Connor hadn’t realized how close he had been to her until his fingers had brushed the line running down her shoulder.

“How many times did he...” he started, until he became conscious what he was saying. He stopped before he could finish, but Kara didn’t seem troubled. She was rather pensive as she considered his question.

“I lost count,” she said after a while, shaking her head slightly. “And I don't dare to ask Alice. It would only upset her. I don't want to trigger any bad memories or reactions.”

Connor nodded, understanding, and presses his chin to her shoulder, lips brushing her skin and following the mark. They had stood like that for what felt like eternity, Connor holding her close.

Kara is not the only one with her share of scars. There were worse scars, scars harder to hide. Many of their companions have that in common. Luther, the man who had accompanied her to Jericho, still bears gashes on his back, the result of multiple experiments his owner had conducted on him. Simon and Josh, Markus’ right-hand men have been shot too many times to count. Kara had told him about the android who had offered them shelter the night they had escaped the suburbs. The burn marks trailing down Ralph’s face, she said, still haunted her. Connor hadn’t though much of it upon meeting him for the first time, but as he thought about it now he saw the unfairness behind the mark.

Connor had gotten a few scratches of his own from constantly running after androids and having to defend himself. There is no damage left on his chest, and the scar on his hand is almost history now. Connor easily forgets its existence. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of it while doing his coin tricks, but he doesn’t think much of it.

“Does it hurt?” Kara had asked him once, genuinely concerned.

Does it though? It’s hard to tell, when the wound is so old and already scarred. Every now and then when they join hands, her fingers graze the line that crosses the middle of his palm, her touch so light he wonders if he is imagining the press of her fingertips on his skin. Androids can’t feel temperature changes or textures, but they can feel touch. Kara’s is gentle, and he is sure that her skin is just as soft too.

Ever since Elijah Kamski resigned from Cyberlife, the company’s engineers and store personnel had been rather lax when it came to after-sale services. They had the means and the money to fix androids properly, government backup and sponsors of all king ranging from banks to top-notch brands and yet they didn’t move a finger whenever an android came back looking as if it had run into a hell-cat. Or worse. Humans couldn’t care less if their android went and died into a ditch, or got hit by a car – both situations having very little chances of occurring – as long as insurance compensated for their loss. Even human patients in rundown clinics were better treated than they were, the engineers fixing only the bare minimum. Many pretended the competence didn’t fit in their credentials, that they could only work on the inside but not on the outside. Connor was no exception to their rule.

Connor didn’t care if it hurt, if his body bled and emptied itself out on the side of the road. But she did. Kara cared, Alice cared. Even Markus and their other friends from the rebellion, who had better, greater things to do showed concern when it came to him.

No one before Hank had given a second thought about his state of mind. Amanda barely spared him a glance when he went back to her in the Zen Garden, patched up from his fight with the deviant JB300 at the news broadcasting tower. She hadn’t asked about his – could he even call it wounds? It wasn’t merely because androids couldn’t feel pain. Connor could have had his thirium pump ripped out with his power cell, and lost his left hand on top of having it stabbed, and Amanda wouldn’t have bat an eyelash.

Notwithstanding, this was different. Connor had been designed to help the police forces; he had been conceived for the very purpose of dying for his missions if that was what it would take him to complete his assignments. His death would have been a necessary evil, less than a death and more of a malfunction or a miscalculation on his part. Something he could blame himself for, of which he was the only culprit.

But Kara? Kara wasn’t supposed to have gone through this. She shouldn’t have had to endure this at all, as had Alice. And whilst she remained conscious of the risks the job presented, she still cared.

Her smile greets him after he crosses the threshold of their apartment. Home, Connor muses as Alice comes barrelling into his knees and he laughs as his arms come under her arms and he lifts her to fly around the room. Her delighted giggles, and the way Kara’s face softens when she looks at them, her smile widening when their gazes meet, is everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are always welcome :)  
> I'm @allollipoppins on tumblr & @AriL10N355 on twitter. Hmu!


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